Pestilence
by Shaman Wolf
Summary: KevXLee, suicide. Love is a pestilence a disease that everyone wants to catch but few manage to find and enjoy. So perhaps it is true. For a tortured soul, the best you can give them is death. Rated for death and one swear.


This is how boredom and 5 ½ hours of sleep at one in the morning affects your brain when you're 14 ½. Gwah…

Anyway, one of my friends was writing something like this when I was with her, so you can blame her if you want.

Disclaimer: Is their yaoi in Beyblade? Are Kevin and Joseph the main characters? Has Boris been strung up by his thumbs? Is their evidence of drug use, suicide, homicide or Emanuel in the show? Is there Sonny Moore in Beyblade? No? Then I don't own it. I make no money for borrowing these characters from the greatness that is Takao Aoki. If I did then I'd be a very rich little girl. But I don't. So neh. Any and all relations to other stories are purely coincidence, and I apologize to the authors if there is.

Note: This story has no plot, and was written with no plan aside from that I wanted to do something with the word Pestilence and Kevin.

Other Note: The authoress has never attempted suicide, never considered suicide, never even cut herself on purpose. So if there is something wrong with the thoughts and feelings going on, she apologizes. But she had to work from a point of view she's never experienced, so give her a little credit.

Other Other Note: The authoress was toying with an idea at the time she thought was original; killing oneself because one is forced to live a double life. She doesn't think it as great as she did at the time, but oh well. Read it anyway.

Pestilence

Someone once told me that death for a tortured soul is the best thing you can offer them. That someone who has nothing to live for has used up their life, and should replenish it with death. If they were meant to be on this earth, they wouldn't feel like that.

I believe them.

I looked down, my beyblade clenched tightly in my hand. Black, icy water rushes beneath me, rocks dotting through it. They look sharp; deadly should someone land on them. Snap their spine and their neck, leave them impaled there or they slide off and get carried away by the river. Or they just fall in the river and don't bother to survive.

Perfect.

'Kevin, you're destroying yourself.' Mariah told me, hand still poise from slapping me across the face. I didn't feel it; oh no, Kevin's beyond feeling now. Who AM I anymore? Even I don't know. 'Stop it, right now! Can't you see what you're doing to all of us? You're parents don't sleep at night, Gary's terrified and sitting outside right now. Lee's pacing back and forth in his room, trying to think of some way to make you better. Even REI came back, without the elders prompting, and he's with Lee so that he doesn't have a panic attack. Wake up and smell the roses! We DO care about you; whatever you may think, we do!' There were tears in her eyes when she yelled that at me.

Sorry to make you cry, Mar, but I can't do this anymore. You may say you care, I believed you cared for a bit, but now I see through your act. You just don't want to live with the guilt that I'm dead and you didn't try your hardest to prevent it. Don't worry; it's not your fault. Not Rei's for leaving, or Gary's for being Gary.

It's all HIM. Lee. It's Lee who did this to me. Lee and his 'I'm so great all must worship me' attitude, Lee with his demands and such, Lee with his bossiness…

Lee with his good looks, with his kind words behind closed doors, with his tender touches in the middle of the night, with his strong arms that hold me against that warm chest and let me know that everything's alright. Lee with his calming, soothing talks and the way he makes you feel; like Mom's soup when I'm sick.

I can't live that double life anymore. I asked him to drop the charade; it only made us both hurt.

But he said no. The opinion of the others, the respect he holds so high, that makes him think he's better then everyone else, matters more to him than my love. I gave him all I could, and more, but that wasn't enough.

That's when I got into the magic of knives.

I'd heard about people who slit their wrists to relieve tension, and it was one of those things that I'd never understood until I experience it myself.

It was purely by accident I discovered how good pain could feel when your heart and soul have died. I was cutting up carrots for our stew that night, and accidentally hit my thumb. Blood seeped from the tiny but deep sliver. I just stared at it for a while, feeling better than I'd felt all week, until Mom came in. She freaked out and rushed me to the doctor. I still have the stitches. They come out next week.

I made sure not to let her see the others; the ones I did intentionally. No one did, until one day…

'Kevin, what's this?' Lee asked me. I was half asleep in his lap, content with where I was. He stopped the gentle neck massage he'd been giving me and used that hand to lightly trace a long, angry red line down my wrist. I turned my head to the side and murmured that it was nothing, and that he shouldn't worry about me. He turned my head back, gentle fingers tracing my jaw, and said that he DID worry. He wanted to know what happened.

So I told him.

At first he'd been shocked into silence. Then he'd been freaked out; he wanted to rush me to the doctors too, but I said that it was fine and it had healed. Then he'd burst into heart wrenching sobs, promising me that if I stop doing that, then he'd tell the whole village that he was gay. He didn't care if they disowned him, sent him out on his own, just as long as it would make me stop doing this.

I told him not to destroy all that he'd worked for; that I'd take care of it.

And now I am.

Plastic beyblade parts clatter to the concrete of the bridge as it shatters in my grip. Of course I'm strong in my final moments. Makes perfect sense. I bring one foot up to the railing, and steady myself with my arms as I bring the other up too. I lean forward, ready to die, when there's a small voice from the hill beside the bridge.

"Kevin!" I look up with dead eyes. I know that voice. Lee.

Perfect. I smile.

"Bye Lee." I whisper softly, tipping myself forward. I feel him catch my boot, only to have it slip off in his hand. I'm smiling as I hit the freezing, churning water, happy for the last time ever. I finally did something right.

I don't die immediately; my body's tossed around and smashed into rocks. A broken arm, crushed foot, snapped rib, but what do I care? It's all the same to me. Pain and cold. It's nice.

Blackness eats away at me, and I know the end has finally come. But now I'm not happy. I want out; c'mon, gimme another chance!

But no. It's too late.

Someone once told me that death for a tortured soul is the best thing you can offer them. That someone who has nothing to live for has used up their life, and should replenish it with death. If they were meant to be on this earth, they wouldn't feel like that.

It's a load of shit.

Far above, Lee still stood, tears in his eyes, fist desperately clutching the deerskin boot to his palm. It's still warm in his hand as the floodgates finally break, and tears fall from his golden eyes to roll mercilessly down his cheeks and fall into his collar. He backs away as a flame inside of him flickers and dies. He knows he's lost something that can never be replaced.

His friend.

His brother.

His lover.

All gone in a split second. He falls numbly to his knees, clutching the small boot to his chest like it's a life preserver. If he lets it go, he floats away.

A light catches the shards of purple that was once his beyblade, the bit chip still intact. He notices that, in the soft moonlight, a single drop of water from no where slides from it and lands with a silent splash on the ground, and Lee knows: Galmon has died too. He picks himself up and walks back to the village in silence.

A small crowd is gathered in the square, all looking anxious. Kevin's parents are ashen faced, his mother clutching his father's sleeve. Lee shakes his head, and she bursts into tears. Silent drops slide down his dads cheeks as he pulls his wife to him. Mariah stands their silently, shocked. Rei bows his head and cries. Gary doesn't understand at first, and only after Lee shows him the boot does he understand that his little buddy's gone. For good. He bursts into tears, Mariah and Rei hugging him. But Lee does nothing except walk numbly to Kevin's house; up the stairs he knows so well, into the bedroom with the posters of the American bands his brother sends over and the CD's that everyone coveted badly but never wished to talk about.

He collapses on the soft bed, pulling the covers to him and breathing deep the smell of Kevin. For a second he believes his little fantasy that it's all a dream; that he'll wake up in five minutes, and Kevin will be standing there, demanding his boot back and Lee off his bed so he can get ready for bed.

But when he opens his eyes, the only thing he's greeted by is the silent dark of an empty room of a dead little boy. The little boy who he would still be holding had he not been so stubborn.

But no.

He falls asleep to hallucinations of Kevin's voice ringing in his ears; not saying anything, just there.

The next morning, his parents walk in to get him, and find him dead. The elders claimed he died of a broken heart. He was buried next to Kevin's gravestone; an empty grave with no body.

A few weeks later, Mariah and Gary are passing by, and see beautiful blood red flowers growing out of the fresh graves, in ground where nothing grew before and has not grown since.

Love is a pestilence; a disease that everyone wants to catch but few manage to find and enjoy. So perhaps it is true. For a tortured soul, the best you can give them is death.

But for a loving soul, the best you can give is happiness. And that can never be found without the one you love. So be they male or female, white or black, seven or seventeen, they're worth it in the end.

Mariah walked away in tears, the sound of children laughing ringing in her ears as she continues down the sidewalk with Gary.

A single, whispered conversation is carried away on the wind, between two that were meant to have it but never did.

"I love you, Kevin."

"I love you too, Lee."

FIN!

Intelligent criticisms will be accepted, read and treasured. Kind reviews will have the same effect. Reviews something along the lines of 'well that was sure darn stupid of Kevin!' or 'KEVIN WOULD NEVER DO THAT!' or 'EWWWWWWWW LEE AND KEVIN! WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!' will be answered with an email expressing why I did this and questioning why you read it or deleted. Or both. So I advise that you don't do that. Thank you.


End file.
